


You Know My Name (Look Up The Number)

by fullofbloodandhoney



Series: Rubber Soul Verse [1]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Comedy, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-11
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2017-11-01 19:19:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/360327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullofbloodandhoney/pseuds/fullofbloodandhoney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> Two years after shooting their last Glee episode, Chris and Darren meet again, in NYC. Starring: repressed feelings, wise cab drivers, bananas and Rhymezone dictionary.  </p>
            </blockquote>





	You Know My Name (Look Up The Number)

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to Kat (kahvi on LJ) for betareading this.

Chris was leaning against the fake wall, eyes closed. It was too early to be awake, but he hadn’t slept much anyway, unable to sheep-count himself through the jitters. Because this was either going to be a complete _fail_ or one of the best things that ever happened to him.

His lips curled into a smile when he heard a soft thump next to him, the wall shaking a little.

“Don’t destroy the set before we even started.”

“Hey, you.”

Chris finally opened his eyes. Darren was grinning back at him, face bright and excited, his hair longer and shaggier than he remembered it. He was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a mouse playing the guitar, and thick-framed glasses. And he was perfect. It had been more than two years since he last saw him. They just stared at each other for a moment, before Chris found himself being pulled into a bear hug. He inhaled deeply, enveloping himself in Darren’s smell, which was exactly the same as he remembered it. He squeezed back, the feeling of _rightness_ settling in the pit of his stomach.

They headed straight to lunch after their first rehearsal to catch up, both still wearing their pristine black FBI suits.

“Who would have ever thought that we’d be acting together again. And in a crime thriller, no less,” Chris added with a smirk. “Even if it’s a parody.”

Darren popped several fries into his mouth, chewing loudly.

“I know, right! People are going to flip. And it’s been ages. Tell me everything, how did you get this role? What you’ve been up to, what’s new in your life; pets, movies, books, boyfriends; go!”

Chris laughed, shaking his head. “Straight to the point, eh?”

“What can I say, man, I haven’t seen you for a year. You look amazing, by the way. Have you grown again, because you _need_ to let me in on your secret.”

“Nu-huh, you need to stay hobbit-sized. This world will always need people who can push the lowest buttons in the elevator without bending. Anyway, I took the part because I wanted to try something new. To quote my dear Kurt Hummel, there are more than four sides to me. I want to try as many genres as possible so I don’t get typecast, plus I’ve always wanted to play an agent. What about you, though? Last time I heard about you, you were releasing a new album. I didn’t know you still acted in small independent movie productions.”

Darren’s hand flew into his hair, ruffling it quickly, almost like in a nervous gesture.

“I’m mostly in it for the sunglasses.”

“Of course you are,” laughed Chris. “Back to your questions; I’m just about finishing my third book, I’m putting the final touches on my new apartment, Ashley has been trying to convince me to buy a kitten and I may not have a boyfriend, but I’ve taken up knitting and in the evenings I’ve started watching reruns of Xena: The Warrior Princess.“

“So, busy, then,” winked Darren. “I’ve been thinking about launching my own nail polish line.”

“You’re not serious; oh my god, I’m so wearing that!” exclaimed Chris loudly, making a few people in the diner turn to look at him.

Darren’s smile widened, his eyes twinkling. Chris remembered that twinkle all too well. It was always there when Darren showed up in his trailer with a bottle of wine and a Disney movie after shooting saucy Klaine scenes whole day. Those were the days when the tension between them was so thick they could cut it with a knife. Neither of them knew what it meant, so they usually got drunk, singing loudly to I’ll Make a Man Out of You, and then fell asleep together, curled up on the tiny bunk. Things usually went back to normal in the morning.

“I do not believe that for one second, you dirty liar,” Darren cried out then, cutting through his thoughts. “You never wore the pin I gave you for the release of your first book!”

Chris stared at him in awe.

“That’s because it had a _sparkly pink pony_ on it. And it _glowed in the dark_. I might be gay, but that’s taking it a bit too far.”

“I wear shit like that all the time, though,’ countered Darren, tilting his head in confusion.

“Exactly my point. But really, I promise I would _proudly_ wear your nail polish. On my toenails and under my socks, mind you. But proudly.”

“You sneaky little rebel.”

“That’s right. Except for the ‘little’ part. I’ll leave that to you.”

“Oh, that was low.”

“ _Precisely_.”

 

 

They kept up their easy banter the whole time they ate, feeding each other fries and bits of cheese. Everything clicked back to place just like they had never parted more than a year ago.

The tension was back too, though, and it was stronger than ever before.

When Chris found out Darren didn’t have a more permanent place to stay in New York and was still staying at a hotel, he looked at Darren like he was crazy.

“You can stay with me, of course.”

“What?” Darren stopped his litany on the newlyweds from the neighbouring room (“They didn’t let me sleep, if you know what I mean, not even after I pulled out my violin and played My Heart Will Go On at them through the wall!).

“Well, as you know, I live here now, so I have an actual apartment. You can stay. I have a guest bedroom.”

Darren’s face lit up.

“Are you sure? You have enough space?”

“Ah, come on, for you, your nail polish and your three shirts?”

“And violin and guitar and keyboard,” Darren counted on his fingers.

Chris shrugged.

“As long as it’s not a grand piano.”

 

They took a cab to Chris’s place, making a detour at the hotel so Darren could check out and grab his stuff. Meanwhile, Chris sat in his seat, feeling the jitters creeping back into his body. He was going to have Darren at his place. They were going to have breakfast together and bump into each other between the bathroom door; it was going to be both amazing and super-awkward at the same time. But something was going to happen after all these years of tension. It had to.

He twirled his phone between his fingers, a bad habit he’d picked up from Lea a long time ago.

“Feeling antsy?” Asked the cabbie, looking at Chris through the rear-view mirror. Chris glanced up, a bit startled, still not quite used to the chatty nature of some taxi drivers.

“Something like that,” he admitted, urging his fingers to stop clutching the phone.

“Love trouble?”

“Something like that,” he repeated, blushing. He really was easy to read even if he was a good actor.

“Well you should call, then. Or write a message. There’s no point in torturing yourself, kid.”

Chris was just about to reply, taking a shallow breath, when he saw Darren half running and skipping towards the taxi, bags and musical instruments hanging off every limb.

“Let’s do this, roomie!” he squealed excitedly as he piled his things into the trunk, planting himself next to Chris.

“Ok, boys, buckle up, we’ll be there in half an hour,” called out the cabbie cheerfully, thankfully never coming back to his and Chris’s previous conversation.

They drove through the streets of New York, Darren’s face pressed to the window at first, before he got bored of the view and chose to stare at Chris instead. Chris felt his ears go red. Neither of them said anything. The radio was off and Chris didn’t feel like interrupting the atmosphere by asking the cabbie to switch it on. He started playing with his phone again, mulling the cabbie’s words over in his head. Maybe it _was_ a solution. He certainly didn’t have a better one and something simply had to be done before his brain imploded.

He grabbed his phone securely in both hands and punched the buttons in determination.

 

_**to: DC**  
I missed you so fucking much._

 

Darren’s phone went off in his pocket and Chris bit his lower lip, watching him pull it out and slide his finger across the screen. His dark eyebrows shot up, cheeks colouring a little, but he didn’t say anything.

Few more seconds and Chris’s BlackBerry buzzed in his hand.

 

**_From: DC_ **  
_Why are you texting me when you’re sitting next to me, CC?_

_**to: DC**  
There's things I still can't tell you directly._

_**from: DC**  
So you text them to me._

_**to: DC**  
Yeah. Like this, I can always pretend that it wasn't me._

_**from: DC**  
But it's your number. It's on my phone._

_**to: DC**  
It could be stolen or idk. I swear Ashley's cat has a cleptomaniacal streak._

_**from: DC**  
Well, either way, you or Fred are going to pay an enormous phone bill at the end of this month, if this goes on._

_**to: DC**  
We’ll deal._

_**from: DC**  
I fucking missed you too, CC. So much._

 

Chris allowed himself one look. Darren’s face was calm, but his eyes were glistening behind his glasses as the night fell over New York through the taxi’s windows, all the lights turning on, all the music and all the dreams.

Chris’s phone buzzed in his hand one more time.

 

_**from: DC**  
Maybe too much, to be honest..._

 

 

“So, this is home,” Chris said nervously when he pushed the door open. He toed out of his sneakers, pulling some of Darren’s stuff in from the hallway.

His apartment was everything the one he used to keep in LA wasn’t. It was spacey yet cosy, with living room, two small bedrooms, wooden floor and yellow walls. He’d literally just moved in, but he already loved it to death. He hoped Darren would, too.

He worried for nothing, though, because as soon as Darren saw the inside, his eyes lit up like Times Square.

“This is incredible, Chris,” Darren breathed, taking in the interior. “Why don’t you and Ashley live together, actually? I thought you moved here together?”

“We did,” Chris nodded, leaning against the closed door, lips stretching into a dorky smile. “She lives in the apartment across the hall. We wanted the full Friends experience.”

“That’s so fucking cool,” laughed Darren. “Does that mean you have The Chick and The Duck here?“

“We didn’t go _that_ far. She did get me the large plastic dog, though.”

“No way!” exclaimed Darren enthusiastically, his eyes shining. “Where is it?!”

“That hideous thing is out of my apartment forever, thank you very much. I sneaked it back into Ashley’s place when she left to shoot some show in LA.”

Chris had to giggle when he saw Darren’s disappointed look.

“It’s completely all right, though, I swear. I put it in her bed and covered it with a blanket. You can even visit it if you want.”

Darren snorted.

“You’re an animal, Colfer. I still can’t believe you guys moved to New York.” He crossed the room and pressed himself against the large window, drinking in the view. Chris followed him with a small smile, hands casually buried in pockets.

“I know, right. Seems I've been channelling Kurt Hummel way more than I thought.”

Darren turned around quickly, their eyes locking.

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He bit his lip and cleared his throat.

“I think it suits you. You certainly _are_ the fire escape stairs kind of guy.”

“Oh yeah, I do enjoy helicopter gazing.”

 

 

 

Chris didn’t have any food in the apartment apart from a box of cereal he’d rather not touch and a few bananas in the fridge, so they ordered take-out for dinner and settled on the sofa to eat it while watching The Princess and The Frog.

Chris kept sneaking glances at Darren as they ate, mostly unable to tear his eyes from mouth. Darren’s mouth should be considered illegal and immoral, the way he kept sucking on those noodles and licking the spicy sauce from his lips. It was also making Chris’s pants tighter and his skin warmer with each passing minute, which wasn’t ok. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought Darren was doing it on purpose, but Darren was watching the movie innocently, humming to the music between the bites of his Chinese.

 

 

“You know if they ever shot this movie as live action, I'd make a mean Naveen,” proclaimed Darren.

The food had been eaten and both boys were nursing their respective drinks, finishing the movie in relative silence (except for the singing parts).

Chris turned towards him, taking a sip of his coke, eyes sweeping across his face.

“Nah. You're totally Ray,” he said after a while.

“Oh, ok. It does make sense. Except my ass doesn’t glow in the dark. What about you then?”

“Louis,” Chris replied shortly, eyes flicking back to the screen.

“Big, green and you like to blow trumpets?”

Chris threw a cushion in his face.

“No. Somebody who’s found his place in the world despite all the differences.”

 

 

The movie was long over and the TV silent, but neither of the boys had moved from the sofa. They were both stretched out across it, their legs tangled in the centre – Chris’s too cold, Darren’s too warm.

“Let's go somewhere,” Darren suddenly spoke out, catching Chris’s eyes.

“What? No, ‘m comfortable here. Plus, Xena is on in ten.”

“Oh, come on, Colfer, let’s like... pack our bags and go on an adventure, or something.”

“You could always eat the cereal if you're feeling adventurous. Or the bananas.”

“No, I mean it; let's go on a road trip after we’re done shooting the ridiculous movie. To Ireland or something. We could totally visit Damian. I like Ireland.”

“Oh. I like Ireland, too.”

Their eyes locked again, both of them thinking about what Ireland meant for them. Yeah, Chris knew for sure they were both just getting the same flashback. His throat went dry as his tunnel vision focused on Darren’s lips again.

Well then.

“You don't like bananas?”

And that was so like Darren, changing the topic out of the blue. Chris was glad he could still keep up, even after two years.

He frowned a little, shifting a bit on the sofa, tingles running down his spine as their feet brushed.

“I do like them, I just don't like eating them. It's obscene.”

“That's crazy. That's like... There are so many things you couldn’t eat if you kept thinking like that.“

“Like what?“

“I don’t know. Like peaches, or...“

“Yeah, I don’t eat those either.“

“Why the hell not?!“

“Because the fuzzy stuff from their skin get stuck between my teeth, that’s why.“

Darren didn’t answer to that, but his look darkened behind his glasses.

“Yeah, ok, I’m ending this conversation, now,“ snapped Chris quickly, feeling his cheeks heat up.

 

 

They both knew they had to go to sleep soon, but somehow, Chris felt like if the thing between them didn’t get resolved tonight, it damn well wouldn’t get resolved, like, ever. Still, he was scared to make the first move. It didn’t look like Darren was about to, certainly, especially not by the way he was snoring lightly already, his head tipped back, mouth adorably open.

Action needed to be taken now. And he had to be the one to take it, apparently.

Chris stood up, careful not to wake Darren up and fished his phone out from between the take-out boxes. He slipped into the bathroom, settling on the edge of the tube with a toothbrush in his mouth, and opened a new message tab.

 

 

**_to: DC_ **  
_Remember how you used to suck on my tongue when we shot Klaine scenes?_

__

 

_**to: DC**  
That was nice._

__

 

_**to: DC**  
We should do it again some time. _

 

 

Chris heard Darren’s phone go off in the living room and then the sound of a body hitting the floor accompanied by a string of fairly juicy swear words, but he didn’t wait for Darren to find him in the bathroom. He rinsed his mouth and ran into his bedroom, locking the door behind himself.

Then he started hyperventilating.

What had he done? Was it the right to do? Did he ruin everything? Was Darren just packing up his stuff and about to leave him? And why wasn’t he texting him back?

Chris grabbed his phone again in panic.

 

 

**_to: DC_ **  
_Oh my god, I’m sorry, I just... God. I have to do this through texts, how pathetic._

 

Darren didn’t text him back. But something else was happening. Chris heard a guitar playing in the next room. Soft sounds of fingers plucking strings, nothing more. Then it stopped.

 

**_from: DC_ **  
_It's ok. You're a writer. I write songs. I could write songs about this._

 

Chris’s heart leaped into his throat as he read the short message. What did it mean? Was Darren mad at him?

 

_**from: DC**  
I went on Rhymezone and searched for rhymes to ‘chestnut hair‘ and ‘made of magic‘._

__

 

_**to: DC**  
What do you mean?_

__

 

_**from: DC**  
I don't know. But I got ‘folding chair‘ and ‘rather tragic‘._

__

 

_**from: DC**  
It did not help. _

 

 

There were no more texts for another hour and Chris was too scared to try again, keeping himself locked in the bedroom, lying on the bed in his pyjamas, listening to the sounds of Darren’s guitar.

He knew they both had to get up early for their call tomorrow, but he simply couldn’t imagine sleeping right now. Things were too messed up. His brain was too preoccupied.

His phone went off.

 

_**from: DC**  
Chris?_

__

 

_**to: DC**  
Yes_

__

 

_**from: DC**  
I took the role for you. I came here for you._

__

 

_**to: DC**  
Oh._

__

 

_**from: DC**  
I don’t want to go back, ever._

__

 

_**to: DC**  
Darren. Let's.... Let's just meet in the living-room, ok?_

__

 

_**from: DC**  
Coke and apple juice?_

__

 

_**to: DC**  
Do you have to ask. _

 

 

They ended up not drinking anything, because as soon as their eyes met, Chris’s blood-shot and Darren’s dull, they both strode across the room straight into each other’s arms, ending up on the sofa in a tangled mess of limbs and hair and quickly warming-up bodies.

Darren slipped his hand under Chris’s pyjama top, pulling it over his head.

“Tell me this is ok,” he pleaded, his voice sounding so wrecked Chris didn’t think he’d be able to stop even if he said no.

“So ok,” he breathed out, finally joining their mouths. Their lips dragged across each other, making Chris’s mind wander back to bananas and peaches and why was he thinking that right now when he had Darren’s tongue in his mouth and Darren’s fingers digging into his ass? Their kisses were nothing like Kurt and Blaine’s sweet pecks and shy touches. It was wild and overwhelming in the best sense of those words. Darren kept biting on Chris’s lower lips, rubbing his tongue against his, fingers roaming across his back in the same rhythm.

“Darren, I need you,” whined Chris into Darren’s ear.

He made a quick job of the ridiculous mouse shirt, hungry for more skin, immediately sucking on the now exposed collar bone. Darren made a low, growly sound deep in his throat and rolled them over, pinning Chris to the sofa, pressing them against each other.

“Me too,” he breathed. “For so long, now. I had to... had to come to New York. To be with you. To love you.”

Somehow they managed to strip each other’s pants off without knocking anything over or kicking each other in the face, even though Darren did elbow Chris in the stomach once. They were stark naked, Chris sprawled on top of Darren, their darkened eyes unfocused, unable to smile through the panting. Then Chris reached for Darren’s hand, intertwining their fingers in the process, and pulled him off the sofa in the direction of his bedroom.

The bed was still warm when it took in their flushed bodies. They weren’t loud, drowning their moans in more kisses, exploring each other, Darren determined to kiss every inch of Chris’s skin and Chris desperate to tangle his fingers in Darren’s hair.

Darren did let out a loud moan when Chris started trailing kisses down his chest and stomach, planting few small ones on his hipbones before he finally swallowed around him. Darren clutched at the sheets, his chest heaving, the tiniest drops of sweat gathering on his forehead.

Chris kissed his way up his body, stopping by all the spots he had learnt made Darren squirm in the best way possible. He reached his ear, biting it gently before whispering exactly what he wanted Darren to do to him.

Upon hearing that, Darren made a desperate sound and flipped them over, covering Chris’s body with his again, obviously loving to be in control and enjoying the thrilled look on Chris’s face as he reached for his leg and hooked it behind his back. Chris managed to sneak his hand under his pillow, pulling out a small bottle and Darren grabbed it, popping the lid open.

He peppered light kisses all over Chris’s face as his coated fingers pressed inside, making Chris arch under him, the heel of Chris’s foot digging into the small of his back. Chris’s eyes were shut, but his hands somehow managed to find Darren, stroking his cock in synchrony with Darren’s fingers.

The city was dark and bright, silent and loud, swirling all around them, enveloping them as they moved together, shouting out, voices hoarse, lips swollen, skin burning up, hearts beating fast and hard against their ribcages and each other.

 

 

Sometime in the middle of the night, Chris’s phone went off.

“The hell..?” he mumbled, reaching for it carefully, so he wouldn’t wake Darren up. The older boy didn’t stir once, though, apparently deep asleep for once.

The screen lit up to life as he pushed the main button.

 

_**from: DC**  
Hey CC. _

 

It was Darren. Chris didn’t have to turn around in his arms to realise that he was very much awake and had his iPhone out. He could also feel the silent giggles against the back of his neck.

He decided to humour him and squinted at the screen again.

 

**_to: DC_ **  
_Go back to sleep you maniac._

__

 

_**from: DC**  
Chris._

_**to: DC**  
What._

_**from: DC**  
So worth the phone bill, right?_

 

Chris was convinced his smile was about to split his face in half as he punched in the last message, slipping back into sleep with Darren’s arms tightening around his middle.

 

_**to: DC**  
Totally. I love you, you absolute madman._

 

 

**\-- the end**

also, all the cool kids are doing it, so here's a link to my lair: [bentbackedtulip.tumblr.com](http://bentbackedtulip.tumblr.com)  
come say hi. I need more sane(!) crisscolfer fans on my dash


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